Sacrifice
by Cacolac
Summary: They meet again because it was inevitable and he's not sure how he has already gone through two months without her. Michael/Holly


_**Disclaimer: **Not mine_

**Sacrifice**

Two months.

Fifty... -seven days.

...A whole lot of hours.

He was okay now. Sure. He wasn't some kind of desperate pansy in love with a woman who's not here. Nope. Not him. He was okay. No, even more. He was... He was _grrreat_. And he would show her. He had dressed up real good, with his best tie and her favorite shirt. Not that it mattered. It just _happened_ to be her favorite. He had already thought about what he would tell her. Not to impress her or anything, it was just always better to have something to say. To her or to anyone. Though he wasn't sure his whole new old SNL jokes could work on someone else.

Two months.

He had done a lot of things during these two months. He had visited some new exotic country where he had met an exotic... autochthonous? Auchoctonous? Auctothonous? Bleh. Not important. He had had two _very_ fulfilling months. And Pam was back. It was nice to have Pam back. All grown up now. He had felt like a dad after his daughter's barmitzvah or like after she comes home after her first night with a guy. Well, maybe not. But anyway, everything was great at the office. Except for Toby, of course. Why the hell did he have to get his spine crushed (or something)? He just couldn't rest until he had sucked all the happiness from the world, could he? It was like plague. Or war. Or some vicious infection. You think it's over but bam, it starts again and you can't help thinking about it all day. Cause it's itchy.

So, in a way, everything was back to normal, as if she had only been a weird pause from his life. But like vacation or magic camp, you always need to come back to work, no matter how cool it is. And it's okay to come back because _that's_ your real life and the rest is just bonus. So, yeah, no regrets.

Not that he thought about her that much. It was just that during a three hours ride to New York, there's time to think, that's all, and Jim and Pam hadn't wanted to carpool. Their loss, after all, and this way, he could listen to some awesome music without being distracted. Everything was good, his life was neat. He had spent a great Christmas with his mom and he would spend an even greater New Year's Eve with some friends. Dwight. Maybe Mose. He was a little scared (let's say suspicious) of Mose, but Dwight always said he was nice. Well, as long as he didn't bring some raccoon...

Just before seven, he finally got to the Big Apple. Yeay! The big city for the big man. He was early. He only needed to find the hotel the party was in. No problemo.

He had found the hotel. Well, the indications were sucky (thank you, Toby...). He was kind of late. Dammit. He didn't care, he had all night.

When he entered the room, he spotted her right away in the crowd. He found it a little strange but, well, he decided not to think about it too much. She was talking to Wallace. He didn't like that. Wasn't he married or something? He wasn't sure what to do anymore. All his plans had vanished the moment he had seen her. A drink. He needed a drink to calm down a little. Not that he was nervous. He just needed a drink. He ordered a beer (like a real man) and by the time he got it, he noticed she was finally alone. He felt oddly relieved and slapped himself mentally. Focus, Michael. Now is not the time.

He crept towards her (he wasn't quite sure why). She didn't notice him, seemingly lost in her thoughts, sipping some cocktail. His heart was racing faster as he was getting closer and he wondered for a moment if it would explode the moment he got near enough.

When he was inches from her he said, with his best Terminator voice:

'Sarah Connor? I'm back.'

She turned around with a start and slyly smiled at him. How much he had missed this smile... No. Stop this. Ten seconds. It had taken him ten seconds to think about kissing her. God.

'You are.' she answered, her smile growing.

He could see something else in her eyes, but he tried his best not to analyze it. He knew it was way too risky. They stayed silent for a few seconds because sometimes, there's just nothing to say (and somehow, it's most of the time after a Michael Scott joke).

'What'ya drinking?' he asked.

He knew it was just small talk but well, it's better than nothing. Holly looked at her cocktail.

'I'm not sure... It's some free thing they have.'

'Is it any good?'

'Well, it looks like the gross ectoplasm thingy in Ghostbuster and it probably has the same taste. So... Your call.'

'Yeesh... I think I'll stick with my beer.'

'Yeah. Probably wiser.'

It felt like no time at all had passed. She was smiling at him, laughing to his jokes, standing so close he felt light-headed, like when you're slightly drunk when you're hanging out with some friends and you can't help smiling and forget all the sucky things in your life. Intoxicated by her presence, he didn't notice time flying by. He was supposed to be all social and nice with corporate. He didn't care. Not tonight. Tonight, he had more important things to do, he was busy rubbing salt into his own wounds.

Of course, when Wallace came to talk to them, he couldn't just ignore him. Unless?... Well, no, he couldn't.

'Michael. I haven't seen you tonight.'

'Yet here I am.'

He tried to be polite and hide the spite he felt. Never forget who's the boss. Even if he insisted on always ruining it, he _was _his boss.

'So, how's Scranton? I haven't congratulated you on your numbers. They're quite good actually. Mostly thanks to the Canada sell.'

'Yeah, well.'

He didn't like to think about the whole Winnipeg adventure. It had been an... uncanny experience.

'So it's you who went to Canada! How was it?' Holly asked.

'It was...'

Michael turned to Wallace who had this strange expression, like he was a little apprehensive or something. He shrugged.

'It was nice, actually. New culture, I met some interesting people. Good trip, overall.'

He exchanged a glance with David, who nodded slightly. Mike wasn't sure what it meant, but he felt somewhat better. It wasn't that hard to pretend. Keep smiling, be charming (duh), show her just how fine you are.

They spent the whole evening talking, less and less disturbed by unwanted interventions as the room was emptying. They avoided any serious subject (like who they've been sleeping with or if they were happy) and kept joking around. It inevitably felt like old times, like they weren't seven hours apart. He tried not to show how he enjoyed when she touched him. He could see she was a little drunk. Not enough that he should feel guilty about it. And he was a little drunk too, so it wasn't like he was doing anything wrong.

And when he asked her to dance with him, there was nothing to tell him how dangerous it could be. She took his hand and followed him. He was way less nervous than he should have been when he put his hand on her hip and started dancing. Women always said he wasn't a good dancer. Meh. It was just that they didn't adapt to his unique style. She didn't seem to mind. She picked up his weird rhythm and they swayed along a jazzy tune. They didn't notice the disapproving looks. They wouldn't have cared that much. His eyes were hooked in hers. He had always been fascinated by her eyes. She had chuckly eyes. Can you say that? Well, she did. He loved it. He loved how her hand was just brushing against the back of his neck and how it made him shiver, he loved how her heavy breath on his cheek reminded him of so much.

By the time the song gave way to a slower melody, he didn't think about letting her go, she didn't appear to object. When she rested her head on his shoulder, he felt his eyes watering. He hoped he was allergic to her shampoo. It was way less scary, and maybe that was why his throat seemed to close up. One of his hands was resting on the small of her back, his other was tangled in her hair. After a few seconds, he felt that oddly peaceful calm that always came when he was with her. He didn't feel the pressure of the cameras or the need to put on an act. He kissed her temple. It was a bold (stupid) move, but she only tightened her grip around his neck. He swallowed hard and smiled. Wow. _Wow_. He felt all giddy.

As the song finished, she raised her head and their eyes met. It was perilous, he knew it. Nothing had changed, they were still seven (seven! God...) hours apart, there was no way it could work. Yet he didn't really see how it could not work. She smiled at him, but it was the sad smile she had worn when he had left her on her threshold two months ago, it was a broken-hearted smile.

Something told him it was his last chance. He had to make a move or she would be gone for good and he couldn't allow it. He closed the horrifying space between them with a kiss. It was either really dumb or really clever but it felt unbearably nice and everything was forgotten except her body and her lips and her smell. The fact that she didn't reject him, that she kissed him back made his chest feel way too tight for his heart. It only lasted a few seconds, but maybe that's all it takes to erase two pitiful months.

When she broke the kiss there was a tear on her cheek. Terrified, he went to dry it, but she stepped out of his embrace. She shook her head, mumbling:

'I'm sorry.'

Unable to move (or think), he stood there, watching her as she got out of the room.

**--**

_Walk. As far as possible. Run. Get out of this dangerous area. Don't look back. Don't look at him._

She couldn't think straight. Her brains were numbed by the alcohol and the kiss. What the hell had she been thinking? Kissing him? Really? And in front of half the corporates... How stupid was she? She should have been more cautious, she knew what effect he had on her. Why did she have those drinks? Why did she stay with him all evening?

She hurried back to her room and took shelter in the bathroom. It was nice to spray some water on her face, this way she didn't feel the tears.

_Breathe in. Out. In. Out. Easy. Think about something else. Anything that isn't him._

Lying on the bed, she was staring at the ceiling. She had tried so hard over the past two months. Why did he have to break through all her protections like that and smile at her and make her forget all her good resolutions? She had thought she was over him. Well, let's say she had hoped. She had been wrong, obviously.

She wondered if he had gone back to his room, if he was lying on his bed. They had never decided on a bed side, somehow, and they always ended up curled on the left, which was inefficient but felt truly nice. She would eventually take most of the space, he always said he didn't mind. He had said: 'As long as you're here, you know, and I'm here, it's just enough.' and he had kissed her. Well, they didn't share the same _here_ anymore.

He was a strange man, she had decided, the first time she had met him. Perhaps it was on their second meeting. The first time, she had just found him cute. She had never stopped being baffled by how unusual he was. In a good way, of course. On their first date, he had been very different from what he was in front of the cameras and his employees. He was still very much Michael-Scottesque, yet there was something else she had discovered, something she selfishly hoped she was the only one to know about.

No matter how much she liked the funny Mike or the passionate Mike (and she did, no question), it was that something else that made him who he was. That made her love him. Love... That might not be the right word. She hoped that wasn't the right word.

Maybe it was his smile when he met her gaze, maybe it was his eyes... He was just a lonely guy that cared too much. Was she the only one to get it, to see the grief hidden in his look?

_Because you know that in a way you both need to be saved, you both need someone to take your hand and guide you. And you hoped for a time the mending could be done together._

She tried to stop thinking about him because, well, it clearly didn't help.

_Focus on the bad side. Awkward. Obnoxious. Risky. Seven hours. Seven. Hours. Don't you forget. Challenging._

Challenging... Since when was that a bad thing? If anyone was worth the trouble, maybe it was him. She closed her eyes, settled on the right of the bed and hoped the alcohol would at least prevent her from slumping in a night of hazardous realisations.

Tough luck.

--

She didn't wait for the sun to raise to get up. Exhausted, she took an awakening shower and turned on the TV. SpongeBob was explaining to her that in the end, all you need to fly is friendship. She considered embedding the remote control in the television set but decided against it and settled on getting some coffee downstairs, hoping it would turn out to be as unwinding. And maybe on her way she could figure out what to do. Because yes, after a _whole_ night of tossing around, she still had absolutely no clue on how to act next.

When she entered the room he was already there, eating some cornflakes alone at his table, looking marvelously childish with his old Pittsburgh Penguins jersey and his undone hair. She had always loved his morning hair. He looked up, a goofy smile appearing when he saw her. He raised an eyebrow, nodded. She couldn't quite decide whether he was mad with her. He _should_ be mad but, well, she was used to being surprised by him.

'Can I sit here?'

She was a little (way too much) nervous. His eyes opened with bewilderment then frowned a little.

'I don't know. Can you?'

He tilted his head and looked at her. However, he still had that slightly dorky smile playing on his lips. She had never seen him that hot, she decided, before trying to get that consideration out of her mind. She shook her head and took the seat opposite him.

'It seems I can.'

'Seems so.' he answered.

He went back to his cereals, which he was meticulously crunching with his spoon. She ordered a coffee and tried to ignore the numerous people staring at her, only nodding at Jim and Pam, who were sited close by. The room was way too crowded for her taste. The manager she was working with was a few feet away. He had hit on her quite a few times (even though she had met his wife) and now bore that weird harsh smile that showed his teeth a little.

She shrugged off the unpleasant impression and turned back to Mike, still very much focused on his breakfast. Letting this oddly soothing silence settle in, she sipped her drink, hoping it would help her see a little clearer. Getting lost in the meanders of the coffee as she gently steered the cup, she sought some indication on the path to choose. She had always expected too much from a cup of coffee. The aroma of the scalding liquid lifted her spirits up, though, so as it turned out, it wasn't such a bad idea to rely on her beverage for some life-changing decision.

She watched him eat. He looked worn out and she felt a little responsible for it (or maybe it was just wishful thinking).

'Mike?'

She was decided. He didn't look up from his food, muttered some inaudible one-syllable and shoved a spoonful of cornflakes in his mouth.

'I think we need to talk.'

He finally lifted his head and met her gaze. He swallowed hard and answered:

'I'm listening.'

She heard the sharp tone. His glare tuned to his pout, he showed he wasn't going to give in. Maybe he _was_ a little mad at her.

'I think we need to talk _someplace_ else.'

She glimpsed at the other tables, indicating why it would be highly inappropriate to have this discussion here. He acknowledged her and stood up.

'I'll meet you here in half an hour. Is that good?'

He had kept the same distant tone, but she reckoned it would only be temporary. He never stayed upset very long. She nodded.

The moment they left the doorstep of the hotel, she took his hand. He glanced at her with that charming lost stare, the one that showed when he had no idea what was going on (which was way more frequent than she liked to think). She smiled at him. She was ready. It was only a matter of priorities. It wasn't a sacrifice, not that much, it was just figuring out what she really wanted. He smiled back, still a little confused. She kissed his cheek and said:

'I think I'll look for a job in Scranton.'


End file.
